The car drove quietly along a sparsely populated country lane.
“Brother, if it were anyone else, would you be as uneasy as you are today?” Wen Se asked softly.
“I am not uneasy,” Wen Zhu explained impatiently, adding, “Also, stay away from him. He might be coming specifically for you.”
“You’d better keep the rope on you at all times these next few days. Don’t take it off.”
He remembered how quickly Pei Qingshan had targeted that Hybrid after visiting “Rouqu” just once; the man’s intuition was sharp enough to make Wen Zhu’s heart skip a beat.
“Coming for me?”
“Yes. What did he ask you?”
Wen Se repeated the conversation to Wen Zhu word for word. He didn’t hear anything suspicious in it.
“Brother.”
“Mm?”
“If there comes a day when he wants to kill me,” Wen Se said slowly, looking at his indifferent face, “would you choose me?”
“Perhaps on that day, he’d rather kill me instead,” Wen Zhu replied with a mocking smile.
Wen Se didn’t speak again, and the car lapsed back into its previous silence.
She hadn’t seen Wen Zhu for a very long time. Even if it was just staying quiet together on the way to drop him off at the high-speed rail station for his return to Linjing, it was enough for her to cherish.
Nanxin Town was about twenty kilometers from the station, and at this hour, it wasn’t very crowded.
She always kept exactly one step behind that tall, upright figure. Whenever Wen Se looked up, she could see his lean, broad shoulders—just like years ago, just like right before every nightmare ended each night.
“Brother, when can I come to Linjing to find you?”
“Don’t come looking for me,” Wen Zhu’s voice was the same as always, unchanged over ten years: cold and indifferent. “It’s better if we never meet.”
Wen Se couldn’t help but ask, “Is it because of him?”
Is it because you have a new anchor point by your side? Do you no longer need me?
But her murmur dissipated into the cold Binchuan wind. Wen Zhu didn’t hear it, and he didn’t look back.
Unlike ordinary couples, they were so accustomed to parting that when Pei Qingshan wanted to find Wen Zhu, he couldn’t think of a single place the man might go.
This sense of frustration was more overwhelming than the day Wen Zhu had mentioned the prenuptial agreement to his face. He even felt lost.
Only this apartment.
Only this apartment that Pei Qingshan actually rarely returned to.
He could only search for Wen Zhu’s shadow within these rooms.
Pei Qingshan used to think he understood Wen Zhu well. He remembered all his information—even those superficial records pulled from the Security Bureau. He would bring home a gift for Wen Zhu on every anniversary.
He had actually been quite satisfied with these seven years.
His lover was handsome and even-tempered.
The marriage was very low-maintenance.
It wasn’t until the situation in Linjing became dire and he took his longest leave in seven years that Pei Qingshan realized he seemed to know nothing about Wen Zhu as a person.
He sat on the sofa waiting from dusk until dawn. Except for the shifting light from the balcony, time seemed to stand still.
Messy, fleeting thoughts filled the head of a Commander who had been brilliant and powerful for most of his life, but he sat like a statue of a Buddha—unmoved by joy or sorrow—subconsciously hiding all his anxious, unfamiliar emotions beneath a calm, rational shell.
It wasn’t until a knock sounded at the apartment door that Pei Qingshan’s eyes moved slightly.
Li Weiguang had been pressing the doorbell for a while. When the door finally opened and he saw Pei Qingshan, he realized Tang San was probably telling the truth.
He scanned the room, frowned, and blurted out: “Pei Qingshan, what happened to you?”
Pei Qingshan didn’t show the typical fatigue of someone who had pulled an all-nighter—the man was a perpetual motion machine who could fight Specters for days on the battlefield and remain energetic. However, the hazy, smoke-filled atmosphere made it obvious that this fastidious, self-disciplined freak had been smoking all night.
Pei Qingshan leaned against the doorframe as if nothing were wrong, glancing at the large crowd behind his visitor. “What happened? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
His sharp gaze made Tang San’s scalp tingle. Tang San stepped out from behind Li Weiguang with a business-like attitude: “Commander Pei, we meet again.”
Li Weiguang interrupted their awkwardly vibed pleasantries, stating bluntly: “Crystal No. 1 is vibrating. Pei Qingshan, it’s time for you to go.”
Pei Qingshan wasn’t surprised. He instinctively reached for his waist, felt nothing there, and then said slowly: “Fine. Let’s go.”
He was much more cooperative than expected.
The group, who had been as tense as if facing a great enemy, breathed a collective sigh of relief.
He was still in casual home clothes, without the majestic military uniform welded to his body. Pei Qingshan didn’t look like the boss of the bloody Beidou Bureau; he looked lazy as he leaned against his door, briefing Li Weiguang on the unfinished cases.
“Lieutenant Colonel Tang is working hard,” Pei Qingshan didn’t forget to pat Tang San on the shoulder, remarking, “Solving cases and handling transfers. Remember to ask Quan Qi for a raise.”
“…Understood.”
“Why are you so obsessed with raises lately?” Li Weiguang had heard that Liao Xin asked him to find a way to get Pei Qingshan a raise. “Are you really that short on cash?”
The Beidou Bureau sold their lives to the state; their pay couldn’t possibly be that low.
Pei Qingshan gave a soft snort, ignored him, and took the controller from Tang San, snapping it onto his neck.
Li Weiguang felt a bit uneasy watching the practiced movement; a strange sliver of conscience from his days as a head instructor surfaced: “You’re a Commander, but you’re living like a dog trained by the Security Bureau.”
“…” As the lock clicked, Pei Qingshan felt his spine grow heavy, as if ten kilograms of reinforced concrete were pressing down on it. He didn’t forget to look up and curse Li Weiguang: “You have a wicked mouth.”
“Let’s go, stop chatting,” Li Weiguang scoffed. “Rest assured, we’ve found the place you were watching. This is a joint operation between the Linjing Police and the Beidou Bureau. I’ll be watching the whole time.”
Li Weiguang had been a total base commander; Pei Qingshan knew his strength.
Pei Qingshan hummed in response, pulled out his phone, and tapped on the screen, seemingly leaving a message for someone.
“Excuse me, Commander,” Tang San paused. “According to regulations, we need to keep your phone for safekeeping.”
“Geez, you young people,” Li Weiguang winced. “Must you be so rigid?”
“Fine.” Pei Qingshan didn’t argue. He gave the phone to Tang San and added, “Tell me the moment there’s news.”
“Will do.”
Once the rigid Lieutenant Colonel Tang finished all the procedures, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He struck up a casual conversation with Pei Qingshan: “Are you home alone today?”
“Why?”
Tang San said politely: “I don’t see Professor Wen…”
Before the last syllable could land, a gust of wind whistled past. Before anyone could react, Tang San was grabbed by the throat and slammed heavily against the wall.
BANG—
A deafening crash.
No one expected Pei Qingshan to strike suddenly. Everyone snapped back to their senses and drew their guns.
Facing a dozen dark muzzles, Pei Qingshan didn’t look back. He pinned Tang San to the wall and jerked the blaring controller on his neck: “Do you really think this thing can control me?”
Tang San felt as if his jawbone was about to creak and snap. He squeezed out a few words through his teeth: “What… what are you doing?!”
Tang San’s scalp went numb.
He was considered one of the top fighters in the Security Bureau, yet in Pei Qingshan’s hands, he had no power to resist—even with the controller on the other man’s neck!
“Hey, what’s all this?” Li Weiguang held back the restless troops. “Just playing around! Just a joke!”
“…”
Their Lieutenant Colonel is about to be strangled to death, and you call this a joke?! His face is turning purple! You Linjing police go too far!
The atmosphere was frozen in a standoff.
“Nothing.” Pei Qingshan suddenly let go, raising his palms to shoulder height in surrender. “Lost control for a moment. My apologies.”
“I told you it was just a joke!” Li Weiguang hemmed and hawed. “Lieutenant Colonel, look at your soldiers.”
Tang San leaned against the wall and coughed for a long time before gritting his teeth to command: “Lower your weapons!”
A joke? He felt that in that moment, Pei Qingshan truly intended to kill him.
Pei Qingshan offered some fake concern: “Not hurt, are you?”
There were clear red marks on Tang San’s neck, but he could only swallow his anger: “NO! I! AM! NOT!”
“That’s good.” Pei Qingshan nodded with satisfaction, as if he hadn’t heard the tone. He said earnestly, “Stay away from psychos like me in the future.”
“…”
At least you know you’re a psycho!
Pei Qingshan had successfully made everyone’s hearts race again.
Wasn’t he wearing the controller? And he didn’t even have his blade on him—how is his danger level still through the roof?!
Li Weiguang wanted to ask too.
What kind of monster is this guy? Is the Security Bureau’s genetic testing even accurate? Did a high-level Specter somehow sneak in?
“If I were a parasite, would you be sitting pretty in retirement?” Pei Qingshan was dismissive of the thought.
Lieutenant Colonel Tang returned after answering a call, looking seriously at Li Weiguang: “Officer Li, the Security Academy wishes to re-hire you until Commander Pei returns to headquarters.”
It seemed that the minor riot of Crystal No. 1 earlier had terrified those paranoid old fogies again.
“I’m over forty, an old man. You want me to sell my life to you again?” Li Weiguang scoffed, expressing total displeasure with the orders from the hypocritical old men. “Is that fair?”
“Your year-end bonus will be doubled.”
“When do we leave?”
“Immediately.”
Li Weiguang instantly clamped a hand on Pei Qingshan’s shoulder: “Let’s go, brother.”
“I’m not your brother,” the Commander said expressionlessly. “The year-end bonus is your brother.”